The access
They practice to cut me off
Society needs me
But I cannot feed the hologram
SCREAM !
If all else fails, someone heard the yell
Insides voice the belly of what’s beneath
Swept the demons of deceit behind closed horrors
Keys open old doors
To the more that is behind she
Ill
Kin
Nigga
Sin
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Image description:
An abstract painting of a featureless brown face appears on a stark white background. The face is outlined with thick black lines. A white swath cuts through the left side, with a horizontal line where the eye would be. Two black dots are at the bottom on either side. A bronze line cuts horizontally across the top.
About Karoline Yesterdaye:
Film , writing, and mixed media can all come to life and coexist. At least inside the entropic world for 25 year-old Carribean American artist Karoline Yesterdaye ( real name is Khadijah Hope-Moore ).
Clear hints of minimal approaches to vivid times in her dreams, the current state of the world , and even futuristic ideals yet to be experienced fully. It is apparent that art will always be her medium of expression and depth.
Family meant loving what was not there. But then we grow up. And we learn that to draw close is to survive. And to draw close is maybe even something desirable.
Even if there is tension among your bio family, you are still loved and honored for who you are in the other spaces you create for yourself. No one can take that from you.
I’m not doing it on purpose, I promise. But when I’m in the bathroom alone I look at myself in the mirror and I go to a dark place within my own body, somewhere that I haven’t yet exorcised and burnt incense in.
You there, you are Sacred & I am Sacred too. / Every one & Every being provides a purpose. / No purpose too small, for even our Beetle Brothers & Sisters bring us a Message.
Once I began to receive my benefits, I began to distance myself from an idea that productivity defines whether I am deserving of respect.
My therapist tells me that everything said in this room will remain in between the two of us. He asks me why I came in today, and I wonder if I can tell him so much.
I was constantly exhausted pretending that I was always okay. Trying to prove to myself that maybe I wasn’t bipolar.
I distract myself. I call someone and ask them to remind me of what’s good about me. I play video games or read books that have nothing to do with triggering topics. I take a nap. I drink hot tea.
As a queer and trans person of color who struggled for years to understand what healing meant, I've learned a few things on my self-healing journey that countless self-help books failed to tell me.
By every measure, I’m getting better. But here’s the confession I’d like to make: Sometimes, I wish I never got better, and I wish I were still in my bed.
I think if I were to describe the feeling it would be an empty black hole that you’re alone in and you can’t find a way out because it’s so deep, and every hour someone passes by this hole and throws a brick at you.
I am doing my best to prioritize self-care. I am redirecting anger into providing information on Puerto Rico’s colonial status; however I cannot dissociate from the heartache. No action can eliminate the exhaustion and the sorrow.
I was later to realize that it was all about control.
The role models I had access to were white, affluent and held a lot of disdain for women with lives different than theirs. But back then they had an image, and their way to be trans was what I had.
You refuse to engage with your abuser. Their presence reopens old wounds. You try to heal but it hurts. You like a worm on a bamboo stick hooked on the teeth of lies. Pain pushes you to find silence somewhere.
When abusers deny us our reality, it’s gaslighting. When we enact that denial on ourselves, it’s equal parts survival skill and self-harm. Yet we have the ability to change how we treat ourselves, even if we can't change how others treat us.
Thoughts of suicide come when we run out of options. The more we’re oppressed, the less power we have, which means thoughts of ending our lives might come up a lot. Here are resources and strategies to help you keep fighting for your life without compromising your agency.
I wish I had told my friend to seek out generosity, forgiveness, and understanding in unlikely places. To find people who made him feel safe. To find spaces that loved him as hard as he loved the Movement.
In order to harm ourselves less and care more, we need to look at our relationship with the world around us. The problem isn’t how we’re hurting ourselves, but that we’re hurting ourselves at all.
Ask them what they can offer you besides coping skills, and remember that you’re worth it.
Our denial of our needs (and to be clear, needs, not wants) does not create a more just world. Food, shelter, safety and caring relationships are necessary to all.
I felt something stir up inside me when I was around my Native brothers and sisters. What awoke inside was how much I’ve been running away from myself.